


Hanarete Itte Inai (Don't leave)

by vogue91



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, POV First Person, Self-Harm, Songfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Kiss him.Kiss him till your lips wear out, kiss him to the point of making your mind useless.Kiss him, until you forget the rest of the world exists.That I exist.





	Hanarete Itte Inai (Don't leave)

_[But I’ve got to think twice_

_before I give my heart away]_

Kiss him.

Kiss him till your lips wear out, kiss him to the point of making your mind useless.

Kiss him, until you forget the rest of the world exists.

That _I_ exist.

I wanted to scream this to your face, hurting you if I couldn’t stop.

But I can’t, can I?

Breathe, breath again and again. And watch, as usual.

I know I shouldn’t have given in to temptation, that I should’ve resisted that pressing desire that had forced me to fall in love with you. But my will turns to dust every time I look at you.

That’s why I couldn’t help it.

But you’ll never realize it, will you?

Not you, even less Nino.

You’re both aware of how I feel, and yet you’re almost convinced that I have fun feeling all this pain, as if hurting myself gives me some sort of perverse pleasure.

Without realizing that it’s not like that, that every time the two of you are too close it’s like my heart breaks in half in my chest, leaving me empty, bleeding.

With no one asking how I am, no one worrying, because I am Jun, the one who walks down his path, the one who doesn’t need help.

So I’ve learnt to suffer in silence, Riida.

And to suffer alone.

 

_[And when that love comes down_

_without devotion_

_well it takes a strong man]_

I don’t know what to do.

And I hate myself for it.

I hate myself, because I still don’t get how did I manage to catch the attention of two different men.

I always try not to stand out, to keep quiet, calm.

I’d be glad to be alone, because after all it’s what I was expecting from life, seeing how I am.

For sure, I’d never thought I’d end up like this. Nor that I would’ve been able to hurt another human being.

And still, I am.

I see it when I look at Jun sitting down, far from us, his eyes on the floor.

He’s not thinking about the choreography, he’s not singing to check his voice, he’s not looking at the costumes, as he always does before every concert.

He stays there, motionless.

The only thing he’s actually doing, is being as far away from Nino as possible.

And Nino, when he sees me coming, reaches me with his sliest smile, as if he enjoyed being like this with me in front of him.

I wish I could talk to him.

Tell him that it’s not my fault, nor his. And nor Nino’s, after all.

The fault lies in the love they both feel, and that I can only see in Kazunari, because his love is simple, it’s fresh; it’s easy to reciprocate, for how natural it is.

And it could never be like that with him, because I’m weak. And I don’t have the courage to love Jun, because I know I would have to fight for it.

I sigh, following Kazunari.

I want to look behind me, but I can’t.

I already know that I’d see, and I know I wouldn’t like it.

I’m sorry, Matsujun.

 

_[Well, I guess it would be nice_

_if I could touch your body]_

I think I’d like it.

Not so much touching him, as having a right to.

Going over those touches I steal at concerts, when he can’t react, when he play the part with him, if I just give him a chance to.

Nino looks from afar, and I can see the wicked smile on his face, owed to the fact that he knows there’s no reason to be jealous, he knows that Ohno belongs to him, and that nothing I can say or do will ever change that.

And now, at concert ended, while we’re in the backstage and waiting to leave, they’re close once again, as two opposite poles of a magnet back together after having been separated.

And I still watch.

This time Ohno looks at me, a split second or even less, but enough to let me now he thinks about me, during these times.

That he thinks about my pain, that he thinks about my eyes fixed on them, that he thinks about all that love he’s never going to know, about my hands on him always stopping right on time, before the temptation to touch becomes unbearable, before I can come to the point of no return.

And he does nothing.

Just like it’s expected from my Riida, he keeps still.

Nino’s the only one moving, inside this room, and perhaps that is the real problem.

We’re too _damn_ alike, him and I; and I know he wants to tell me he needs Nino to open a passage in that solid concrete wall around him, but I wouldn’t listen.

Because I’m deaf to his excuses, those he can never find the courage to say.

 

_[Need some time off from that emotion_

_time to pick my heart up off the floor]_

I’ve always liked the atmosphere backstage after a concert.

There’s a sort of... delirium, remnants of excitement that even I can feel, usually blurred by the lethargy I’m used to, and that’s the rare occasion when my mind is on; during and after concerts, it’s like I feel more alive than usual.

But this time I can’t.

Because he’s still there, like he was hours ago, his eyes still on me and Nino, likely too close for it not to bother him, not to hurt him all over again.

I look at him, resigned and angry.

What does he want me to do?

To let go of Kazunari’s hand, run to him, telling him I love him as much as he loves me?

But he knows, I’m not good at lying. Even though perhaps even a lie would work as a relief for him now, when neither of us is ever able to feel at ease.

I just wonder why my thoughts keep running toward him, when I already know it’s useless.

I need to stop looking at him, thinking about him, wondering how he feels, worrying about him.

Too many emotions, all at once and all conflicting, that are slowly taking away that blessed existence I had managed to build for myself. It’s something I hate, still not showing it, because I never do.

Jun is hurting me as much as I’m hurting him, and I keep telling myself that it’s wrong for it to go down like this.

Perhaps there would be a solution.

But I can’t, I _don’t want_ to let go of Nino.

It’s the only thing soothing me in all this confusion.

The certainty that he’s next to me, and always will be, whatever happens.

I’m sorry, Matsujun.

 

_[Before this river becomes an ocean_

_before you throw my heart back on the floor]_

I stare at my hands, at the pocketknife Sho gave me for Christmas.

 _“You never know, it could prove useful.”_ were the words he had used, with his usual doubting smile, soon followed by mine.

At the time I have wondered how could it be useful, but still accepted it willingly, starting to take it around every day, almost without noticing.

Because, like ha had said, ‘you never know’.

I look at it.

My fingers play with the blade, almost challenging its sharpness. I raise my head and I look around, glad to find out that I’m alone. The others must be under the shower or getting dressed. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they’re not here. That I am alone. As I always am, even when they’re next to me.

It’s with this thought in mind that my hand starts to press.

With the blade, on my fingers.

It burns.

I see my hands stained with blood. And I kind of get why it’s red.

It warns me about the danger, it tells me to stop, to put the knife away and dry it, until it’s a few droplets.

But I can’t. It’s almost inebriating, a pain different from usual, a pain I can stand way better than the thought of Ohno.

As if every single drop out of my body took away a part of him with it, as if it was the only way I can forget him.

And when I feel the flames on my body turn into numbness, I lean against the wall and relish in the bliss of not having any more thought.

It’s then, that he comes back.

I feel a rush of pure despise hitting every inch of my body; despise for him, because he can’t disappear, despise because he’s reminded me of his existence right when I was about to dull my mind enough to forget him, finally, even if just for a few minutes.

He stays on the doorstep.

He looks at me.

It’s a different look, but it’s not easier to stand.

I wish I can make the knife disappear, hid my hands, dry the blood, but I do nothing.

I tilt my head, still leant against the wall, and stare right back at him.

I open my arms, as an invitation.

“Come on.” I say, ironic. “Tell me I’m an idiot. Tell me you can’t take it anymore. Tell me that you hate me, that you can’t stand me, that I make you think.” I become louder but, just like before, I can’t stop. I’m almost afraid to, afraid of what he’s say if I did.

I’m not myself, we both know that.

My eyes beg for mercy, and he’s seeing that. He’s still silent, while he comes toward me.

I feel like crying.

But I still have some sort of damn dignity, unfortunately.

 

_[But I’m showing you the door_

_‘cause I’ve gotta have faith]_

The guilt drowns me.

It hurts.

I wonder if it hurts more than the wounds on Jun’s hands.

Those wounds reminding me that I’m the _wrong_ one.

Reminding me that it’s my fault, no one else’s.

That I could’ve done something and I didn’t, for a change.

I get closer, and I see horror in his eyes.

I take the knife from his hands, careful not to touch him. Because it would be worse. Because right now my hands would feel sharper than the blade, as if they could spill more blood than it’s already flowing.

He raises his gaze on me. It’s... weird. In those eyes, it’s like all of a sudden there’s the same old Jun, the one pretending that nothing matters, the one pretending to be confident and careless.

He challenges me, but I don’t want to take it. The weight of his words is still there, and I don’t know what to say.

I could tell him he’s not an idiot, that I don’t hate him, that he doesn’t make me sick; but he wouldn’t believe me, or he’d pretend he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, Matsujun.” I murmur in the end, giving a miserable voice to what I feel.

His face twists in an ironical grimace that I can’t barely stand.

I know he’s got no use for my sorrow. I know, but perhaps is going to make me feel better.

All of a sudden, before I can do or say anything, he stands up, grabbing my head and pulling it closer. I feel the viscosity of blood going from his hands to my nape and my cheek, making me feel filthy.

I barely see him, while all my other senses are ferociously attacked.

His skin under my hands, while I try to pull away, not making too much of an effort.

The smell... acre, annoying, of his blood, closer and closer, everywhere around and on me.

And the tastes, salty, of his lips.

I like it, and it shouldn’t.

I should stop.

Pull away, tell him he has to go; showing him the door and yell at him, as if it is only his fault.

But I couldn’t, because this kiss he’s stolen from me is lasting too long for him not to have already realized I like it more than I should.

When in the end we part, Jun’s look is almost sadder than before.

We both know that this doesn’t make anything better, but we’ve got to have faith.

A faith I’ve lost, and that he’s never had.

I’m sorry, Matsujun.

 

_[Say please, please, please don’t go away]_

I wish he would’ve asked me not to stop.

To go on, even eternally if it had been necessary.

Because somewhere, inside of me, I feel it was the right thing to do.

But when I read the guilt written on his face, I understand it’s over. Even before it started.

I bite my lip, looking for the right words to say, knowing that there aren’t any.

Then a noise startles us, and we see Aiba and Nino coming in. Instinctively, I step back from Ohno, as if I wanted to hide what just happened.

While Aiba goes sitting on the couch, without noticing the tension in the air, Nino gets slowly close to us, stopping by Ohno’s side.

He half-smiles to him, brushing his hand on his cheek.

“You’re stained with blood.” he says, questioningly. Ohno shakes his head, while I rush hiding my hands behind my back.

“I’ve scratched myself.” he replies, quiet.

Nino doesn’t believe it. I see it in his eyes, that diffidence mixed with his little care for it, that irritates me so much.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.

I pick up my stuff and go to the showers; I walk slowly, too much not to show that I’m waiting for something.

What, anyway?

That he asks me to stay? That he tells me anything, that he gives me that hoped I’ve been waiting for this long?

Because it’s not enough to keep repeating myself that it’s useless, while my heart still believes something’s _bound_ to happen, sooner or later.

I leave them there, smiling to each other like the world doesn’t exists, like _I_ don’t exist.

I look back, hoping he’s looking at me.

Another delusion.

I see Sho smiling to me when we meet at the shower, but I don’t even bother reciprocating.

I don’t want to see anybody.

I don’t want to think.

I take my clothes off like a robot, then I let the water run.

Cold.

I look at my hands, watching the blood slip away little by little.

I know it’s never going to go away completely.

Like his taste from my lips, which keeps telling me about my mistake.

I shouldn’t have kissed him.

He should’ve rejected me.

And now I keep being lost, surrounded by my pain, but with the feel of his skin under my hands.

I stay under the cold water. But I can’t feel it.

I won’t feel anything anymore.


End file.
